Delphi
by Kizzykat
Summary: Alexander and Hephaestion visit the oracle at Delphi
1. Chapter 1

**Delphi by Kizzykat**

_This visit isn't in the histories, but it is possible. It's a bit dull._

**The** **Temple**

On an autumn morning at the gates to the sacred precinct of Apollo set on the steep, chilly and misty mountain slope of Delphi, half a dozen priests and acolytes waited to greet the Macedonian prince Alexander.

Beside the eighteen year old prince was his friend Hephaestion, and seven battle-hardened bodyguards detached themselves from a large group of Macedonian soldiers to follow the two young men through the open wooden gates. To their right was a great bronze bull, to their left a bronze Trojan horse with glass eyes. Stretching upwards before them, lining the sloping paved way, were statues of Greek heroes, painted and frozen in the moment of their greatest glory.

Yet all the statues had all been stripped of their golden crowns, silver fillets and wreaths of golden leaves by the Phocians in the third Sacred War. King Philip of Macedon had ended the third and fourth Sacred Wars and restored Delphi's neutrality, for the second time earlier this year by forcing the Amphissians to withdraw from Delphi's territory. He had ended the third war against the Phocians by threatening them with his well-disciplined and invincible army, a threat which he had finally unleashed against the rest of the Greeks at the battle of Chaeronea three months ago.

Philip had destroyed the flower of Thebes' and Athens' armies at Chaeronea and the whole of Greece was now his for the taking. Yet he did not want war with the Greek city states. He wanted to lead their armies into Asia and test Greek might against the vast Persian Empire by liberating the Greek cities of Asia Minor from Persian rule. He wanted to eliminate Persia's threat to Macedon and to the rest of Greece, as much as he wanted to eliminate the threat of the Greek city states such as Athens, and most especially Thebes, to Macedon. To appease Greek pride, he also said he wanted to avenge past Persian wrongs against the Greeks from a hundred and more years ago.

While Philip wintered at Corinth and negotiated with the city states to have himself declared overlord of Greece, with the right to request troops and to enforce the peace, Alexander had sailed across the Gulf of Corinth to visit Delphi. Ostensibly, Alexander had come to check on the depredations caused by the Phocians to the riches of Apollo's sanctuary, and while he was here, he wanted to consult the god on behalf of his father's Persian ambitions.

Alexander and Hephaestion walked respectfully past the images of the heroes up the sloping paved way, wrapped against the autumn chill of the mountains in heavy cloaks of fine, soft wool woven on royal looms and embroidered by their mothers and sisters. Behind them walked the seven bodyguards, weaponless in the sacred precinct apart from small daggers at their waists, alert for any hostile intent against Philip's son.

They walked past the treasure houses of the great cities, all still empty. Gold and silver, jewels, weapons of war, shields and helmets, had once been piled high in these treasuries, offerings of thanksgiving for past victories, but they had all been looted by the Phocians.

Alexander stopped by the treasure house of Athens. Even the gold rosettes on the oak door had been prised out, leaving empty holes.

"Some day, Hephaestion," he said quietly, gazing up at Athena's stone owls perched on the roof of the treasury, "we will fill these treasuries full of Persian gold. We will avenge the atrocities committed by the Persians against Athens and the rest of Greece, and replenish the gifts to the gods a hundredfold."

His brown eyes alight with living dreams, Alexander met Hephaestion's bright blue eyes, warm with devotion and shining with heroic hopes for a glorious future, and for an instant the world of Homer's heroes and the dusty plains of Troy in Asia Minor were alive around them. They could almost smell the heat and dust and the sweat of the chariot horses before the mighty stone walls of Troy.

Alexander smiled and they moved onwards, up the stepped way towards the great temple of Pythian Apollo, visible above them higher up the mountain slope. They raised their eyes to the right where a column stood, entwined by a great gilded serpent and surmounted by a gold tripod and bowl, gleaming dully in the damp air. The Phocians had not dared to rob the offering of the Greeks for their great victory against the Persian invasion at Plataea a hundred and forty years before.

Ahead of them rose a great statue of the god, Apollo Sitalkas - god of beauty, prophecy, youth and poetry, invincible with his bow, and slayer of the dark serpent of the elder gods that had terrorised the valley below. Alexander and Hephaestion paused and made a brief reverence to the bright god of sunlight with his golden arrows before turning past the blood-blackened altar to greet the high priests who stood on the pavement before the temple steps. On the ground before them was Alexander's gift to the god, a chest full of gold.

The high priests bowed respectfully to the prince, careful of offence to Philip's son and emissary. Gold spoke any language though, and they were grateful that Philip was a respecter of the gods and had made himself their champion to win the good opinion of all the Greeks. They hoped his son, hero of Chaeronea and the idol of his father's army, was at least a modest man before the immortal gods, and that he would have his father's diplomatic good sense.

Alexander inclined his head to the priests and greeted them politely in perfect Greek. The priests, relieved that Aristotle's tutoring had had an obvious effect on the Macedonian prince, replied courteously, welcoming Alexander.

"I thank you for the opportunity to show my reverence to the lord Apollo," Alexander replied. "He has gifted me with great pleasure in music and poetry, and I welcome the chance to express my gratitude at his most sacred shrine."

The priests bowed and invited Alexander into the god's house. Alexander looked up above the six columns standing tall at the front of the temple to the sculptures on the eastern pediment which showed Apollo confronting the great serpent. Alexander stepped up between the columns under the temple's portico, where he raised his eyes to the shields hanging beneath the roof. There were Persian shields there, and his eyes met Hephaestion's in acknowledgement as he dropped his gaze and entered the cool dark temple.

Slowly Alexander and Hephaestion walked side by side along the length of the interior, the sound of their boots echoing on the dark and damp walls of the temple. Soft-footed, the bodyguards spread out behind them, their eyes adjusting to the shadows in which isolated pools of torchlight gleamed like gold. Faded paintings could be seen on the walls beneath the torches: a serpent devouring men and women, coiling around warriors, smashing buildings, and being pierced by the god's fatal arrows.

Before them stood the image of the god, great golden sconces attached to the walls behind the statue on the top of which oil-fed flames flickered. The god himself was an ancient wooden statue, the grain of the wood drying out and splitting, smoke-stained and indistinct in the shadows. The larger than life-sized image stood on a low dais, incense burning on bronze tripods to either side of him. The blue smoke curled about his faded vermilion lips, closed and smiling without humour. He wore a stiff kilt of beaten gold, and a great jewel-encrusted collar of gold rested across his breast and shoulders.

Apollo stared out at the visitors, the white paint of his eyes still bright around the lapis lazuli irises, the bright depths of which intimated at hidden life as the god stood with hand held up to the visitors in a gesture of command. In his other hand he held a horn bow, its tip resting on his foot.

Alexander halted and bowed before the god's image, touching his lips and then his breast in reverence. Hephaestion likewise made obeisance before the god, and the chief priest stepped before them to address the god as their intermediary.

He spread his hands in prayer. "Lord Apollo, son of the almighty Zeus, masterful slayer of the Python, these worshippers approach you in supplication. Hear their prayer, for Alexander, son of Philip, descendant of your father Zeus, is the scion of a mighty king, conqueror of cities and destroyer of armies. He comes before you, Lord, bearing gifts worthy of a king. Look graciously on his prayer, O mighty Lord, as one warrior to another. We praise you, Lord of the nine Muses,…"

The priest launched into a ritualistic prayer of praise, and the other priests intoned the responses. When the prayer was finished, one of the priests stepped before Alexander, holding a golden box. He raised the lid and Alexander took a handful of incense. He stepped before the image of the god and emptied the incense into one of the burners, took another handful and dropped it into the second burner.

"Lord Apollo," he said quietly, "be gracious to me this day, and Macedon will fill your sanctuary with gifts of such magnificence that its fame will be heard throughout the world." The burning incense billowed upwards in clouds of blue smoke, wafting in homage across the face of the impenetrable and smiling god.

The god did not show displeasure at this gift, so the priests invited Alexander to step up onto the dais. The chief priest preceded them through a low, dark doorway behind the statue into the room where the priestess of Apollo awaited them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Delphi ****II ****by Kizzykat**

_These aren't really separate chapters – I've just split for easier reading._

**The Adyton**

Alexander and Hephaestion stepped through the doorway, the bodyguards and remaining priests crowding behind them into the darkness of a small room at the back of the temple. The air, though not warm, was heavy with human warmth, the smell of fur, wood smoke, and a pungent mixture of sharp incense and strong herbs.

A single lamp, its brass bowl gleaming dully, burnt in a recess in the wall of the windowless room. Beneath its weak light sat a grey-haired figure draped in furs. The priestess was seated on a rough boulder, a small brazier glowing warmly to her right.

The chief priest bowed and greeted her, raising his hands above her head and invoking the god's presence to descend upon her. When he had finished, he stepped aside and the priestess raised her head with slow deliberation. She rose to her feet, spreading wide her gaunt arms to drop her fur wrap behind her. Clothed in a pristine white robe, she was a skeletal, middle-aged woman with gold at her neck and ears and thin grey hair plaited around her head.

Her thin face seemed to be all eyes, but she did not look at Alexander, seemingly oblivious to the men's presence as she brought a hand to her mouth and removed the wad of laurel leaves on which she had been chewing. Stretching out her bony hand, she dropped the wad into the brazier, where it hissed in the wooden embers and blue-green flames rose to devour the sacred remains.

An acolyte stepped forward bearing a small gold salver on which stood an ancient wooden cup. Bowing, he presented the cup containing sacred water from the Castalia spring to the priestess. The priestess raised the cup of water, potent with god-given properties of wisdom, to her lips, tipped back her head and drank. With a pained sigh, she lowered her head and held out the cup blindly for the acolyte to take.

Suddenly, a draft of cold air engulfed the priestess, making her shiver. Alexander glanced rapidly at the walls and roof, but there was no change in the light of the room, nor any sign of where the draft had come from.

The god's presence had entered the priestess with the cold air and water, and she suddenly seemed alive, focusing on the golden-haired Alexander.

"Well, my beauty," she said in a rusty, frail voice. "What wisdom would youth seek here?"

Heat flamed unbidden in Alexander's cheeks in the dim room and he stiffened in defensive pride.

The priestess stared at him with unearthly eyes, white visible all around the brown irises, so black with dilation that they seemed to breathe dark fire like the mouth of Hades. The god's soul moved in her eyes as she gazed at Alexander.

"Good lady," Alexander said, his voice cracking. "Good lady," he said again, his voice firmer, "my father Philip would know if the gods approve of his aim to liberate the Greek cities under Persian rule and avenge Persian wrongs against the Greeks."

"You do not wish to know that, beautiful boy," the priestess said as a slow smile transformed her face. "There are far more pertinent things the god could tell you."

Alexander stared at her, the orbs of his brown eyes prominent in his deep-set eye sockets and burning with ambitious dreams. "Will Persia be ours? Will the Empire fall to us?" he breathed, his heart in his voice.

"Will the lion be denied his prey?" the priestess answered him. "Will the wolf not be chased from the sheepfold when the king of the beasts seeks his meat? The sun will rise in the west and set in the east ere the lion of Macedon is sated."

Alexander's chin rose proudly, the light of triumph in his eyes as he beheld the god in the priestess's dark eyes.

"I would speak alone with the priestess," he said after a moment, his voice resonant with authority.

"That is not permitted, lord," the chief priest said.

Alexander turned his eyes upon the priest, imperious danger alight in them. "Then withdraw to the other side of the room," Alexander said.

The priest bowed in submission and signalled his attendant priests to depart. As they and the bodyguards pressed through the narrow doorway, Alexander's eyes touched Hephaestion's. Hephaestion moved to stand against the far wall beside the chief priest, who shifted slightly to stand protected in the corner of the walls.

Grown tired, the priestess had seated herself again on the boulder and was drawing her furs around her shoulders. Alexander stepped closer to her in the dim light and bent with his lips close to her grey hair.

"Whisper me, woman," he breathed into her ear. "Will I be famous? Will I be great?"

The priestess, one hand raised in the act of adjusting her furs, turned her head to him in clear surprise. Her eyes were focused, though preternaturally bright. "You will be dead," she said, her quiet words clear to Alexander's ear.

Alexander's eyes widened, though he held his face still not to show any dismay. He pressed close against her ear again. "Death is irrelevant," he whispered. "Will my name be immortal?"

"In the desert places, water will quickened the earth," the priestess said, her eyes clouding. "Seek in the sands of time for immortality."

A frown appeared between Alexander's brows at the cryptic answer, and he drew back. The priest took this as a sign that the interview was over and moved forward.

"The sands of time will shift," the priestess said. "All will be covered; all will be revealed. The past will breathe into the future. Death. And life intermingled. For all time. Eternity." Her babble died to incomprehensible muttering and Alexander drew back, glancing briefly at the priest.

"Will she be well?" Alexander asked. The priestess, mumbling, had begun to shake her head from side to side, forgetful of her dignity.

"Yes, lord," the priest said. "The god's presence exhausts her, and his passing leaves her bewildered. She will sleep now." He called a name, and the acolyte appeared to tend the priestess.

The chief priest turned to Alexander. "Lord," he said, "would you care to reveal your question and the god's response so that we may interpret the god's words for you?"

Alexander stared at him. "No," he said, his voice flat and uncompromising. He continued to stare unwaveringly with his large eyes at the man.

"Lord," the priest said, uncomfortable under Alexander's stare, "the god's words can often be unclear to the uninitiated. We would not wish you to be under any misapprehension."

"I am not," Alexander said, his tone a little more forgiving. "You have my thanks."

Alexander bowed his head briefly and, with a look towards Hephaestion, quit the oracle's room. They paused briefly to pay their respects to the god and then Alexander, his cloak billowing, walked with rapid steps the length of the temple, the bodyguard and chief priest hastening to catch up.

Once outside under the sky, Alexander paused in the chill, misty mountain air. His face was tense and uneasy and Hephaestion watched him anxiously. Now was not the time to speak to him in the presence of strangers.

"I wish to see the theatre," Alexander announced. "I have heard the view is exceptional."

"Certainly, lord," said the chief priest. "I will show you the way."

"We will find our own way. Point us in the right direction."

"Certainly, lord. Bear left behind these two tripods, and then straight ahead. Uphill to your right you will see the theatre. The views from the top tiers are indeed the finest in all Greece, if I may say so."

"You may say so," Alexander said tersely, and walked off, Hephaestion and the bodyguard in his wake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Delphi ****III ****by Kizzykat**

**The Theatre**

Alexander and Hephaestion, followed by the priests and bodyguards, reached the mountainside theatre and passed through one of the doorways onto the round paved floor of the theatre. Alexander looked up briefly at the empty tiers of stone seats. "Wait here," he said stepping forward. "Hephaestion."

Leaving the bodyguard and the priests behind, Alexander walked quickly up the central stone steps, Hephaestion following. Alexander took a seat a row or two down from the encircling wall so that he could feel the cold mountain air all about him. Hephaestion climbed up to the row behind, then stepped down to sit beside Alexander. Silently they sat side by side, staring out at the view of blue-shaded mountains and the steep-sided valley, running from left to right before them. The mountain slopes were forested with evergreens and mist showed whitely down in the vee of the valley, obscuring the river from view.

"The view is breathtaking," Alexander said.

"Yes," Hephaestion said. Alexander's voice was not the voice of his friend, but still the tone he used before strangers. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he tried to catch Alexander's eye.

"No," Alexander said, but his voice was no longer cold and Hephaestion knew it was not a dismissal, merely a waiting signal. Alexander did not look at Hephaestion, continuing to gaze out over the valley. "It is truly beautiful here," he said quietly.

"It is," Hephaestion said, surrendering to the magnificent view and contemplating the mountains and valley. "You can feel the god's presence here."

They sat in companionable silence. "Is that the sea over there?" Alexander asked, raising an arm to point to the right at a whiteness between the hills.

"I don't think so," Hephaestion said, following Alexander's direction. "I think it's too high up. I think we'd have to be round that shoulder of land to see the sea. But you can see the Phaedriads over there," he said, pointing to the left at a cleft in the mountainside. "That's where they threw Aesop to his death."

"The storyteller," Alexander said, looking.

"Yes," Hephaestion said, hearing the change in Alexander's voice and looking round at him. "They didn't believe in him."

"She said I would be dead," Alexander said, his voice tight, his eyes unfocused.

Hephaestion's lips parted in shock. "What was your question?" he asked quietly, leaning nearer to Alexander.

"Would I be famous?" Alexander said, finally meeting Hephaestion's eyes. Alexander's voice sounded very young. "I wanted to know if I would be a great man, and she told me I would be dead."

Hephaestion's eyes wandered rapidly over Alexander's face, searching for an answer. "She must have meant that you would be famous after you were dead, Alexander," he said, his voice low with conviction. "She answered your question, Alexander. You will be famous, your name will live on after your death."

"I think she meant that I would die young."

The colour drained from Hephaestion's face as Alexander held his eyes, their souls bared to each other. Hephaestion's eyes widened in wonder. "Like Achilles," he whispered.

Alexander's lips moved in a mirthless smile.

"She's offering you the choice, Alexander," Hephaestion said, warmth and certainty growing in his voice, "a long life or immortal fame and glory. It's within your grasp, Alexander. The gods are not wrong. You will achieve your dreams of great glory and your deeds will live on in men's hearts."

Alexander watched Hephaestion's eyes as they shone with excitement. "Patroculs died young too," he said.

A shadow crossed Hephaestion's boyish face. It was quickly dispelled as he began to grin with delight, his eyes aglow. "Together for eternity," he whispered. "We will be immortal, Alexander; we will conquer the Persian empire, we will see the Outer Ocean, and we'll live in an age of heroes."

Alexander's face softened and he moved suddenly, catching Hephaestion in a fierce hug, knowing he was not alone. "The gods ask a great price for great gifts, Hephaestion, including friendship," he said.

"Nothing great can be achieved without great risk, Alexander," Hephaestion said, his arms enveloping Alexander's ribs.

Alexander disentangled himself, momentarily embarrassed by the display of emotion. "She also said that water will quicken the desert places and to look in the sands of time for immortality," he said, meeting Hephaestion's eyes questioningly. "I don't know what that means. Life in barren places?"

Hephaestion frowned in concentration. "Where are there deserts? Egypt?"

Alexander's eyes widened in recognition. "The oasis at Siwah," he said. "The oracle of Zeus Ammon is in the middle of the desert, the sands of Egypt. Egypt is an ancient land, Hephaestion, a land of many old gods. I must go there, I must go to Siwah, Hephaestion." His eyes lost focus as he imagined the distant land.

"Yes," Hephaestion whispered, watching Alexander avidly. "But I don't expect your father will let us go yet."

"No," Alexander said, coming back down to earth. "Some day, though. There is still a great deal to be done here in Greece. We can't go into Asia until we have the secure backing of the Greeks, or they will rise against us the minute Philip sets sail."

"Yes, but then we will go to Troy and conquer all the cities Achilles and Patroclus conquered," Hephaestion said, his eyes shining brightly.

"Yes, Troy," Alexander said, his eyes growing large and luminous with dreams. "To walk in the footsteps of Achilles, Hephaestion." Suddenly his eyes sharpened with focus. "Let's go up to the stadium," he said eagerly. "I want to run a race in Achilles' honour."

Hephaestion's face lit up in eagerness as he scrambled to his feet after Alexander, who was already leaping down the steps to the floor of the theatre. They turned right outside the theatre and made their way upslope through the pine trees to the stadium just below the level crest of the mountain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Delphi ****IV ****by Kizzykat**

**The Stadium**

Inside the stadium at the top of the mountainside, Alexander stopped behind the starting blocks and stared at the length of the deserted stadium, mist beginning to curl down the stone seats.

"Race with me, Hephaestion," Alexander said in his clear voice. He began to strip off his clothes, Hephaestion following his lead, as the bodyguards took their clothes for them and the priests looked on in bewilderment. Leonnatus and the other bodyguards smiled amongst themselves at the priests' incomprehension. They knew Alexander's love of dramatic gestures, his romantic ideals, and loved him all the better for his proud commitment to them.

Alexander and Hephaestion took their positions on the starting blocks, and Leonnatus started them off on the long sprint.

"Hephaestion," said Ptolemaios speculatively. Hephaestion's legs were longer than Alexander's and he was lighter built, but Alexander had the strength for sustained sprinting, and the reputation of a runner, like swift Achilles, his mother's ancestor.

"No, Alexander," said Arybbas. "I've seen him run before. Nobody beats Alexander. Go, Alexander!" he cried.

"Hephaestion! Go, boy, go!" cried Ptolemaios, and they all began shouting loudly, their voices echoing hollowly around the empty stadium.

Alexander won by a hand's length, touching the far wall a moment before Hephaestion. Panting heavily, his naked chest heaving, Alexander leant against the wall, turning with a breathless laugh to Hephaestion, his eyes dancing with joy, knowing Hephaestion had not let him win.

Hephaestion, his breath burning in his lungs and throat, barely had the strength to grin ruefully back at Alexander as he held himself up with an outstretched arm. "I almost had you," he said hoarsely after a moment, grinning at Alexander.

"Never, my Patroclus," Alexander said with a laugh, catching Hephaestion in a loose hug to let them both breathe.

Hephaestion hugged him back and Alexander said fervently, his chin against Hephaestion's shoulder, "The victory is for Achilles, Hephaestion. May he bless our endeavours in Asia and always grant me the victory." He stole a quick kiss to Hephaestion's cheek.

"The only thing that can stop us, Alexander," Hephaestion said devoutly, "is the envy of the gods that we will outshine their deeds."

With a breathless laugh, Alexander drew back from Hephaestion's chilling body to smile at him. "Let's get dressed," he said, "or we'll both catch our death of cold first."

Hephaestion returned his smile and together they trotted back the length of the stadium. They dressed to the congratulations of the bodyguards as the priests stood about in uncertain dignity.

Alexander smiled engagingly at the priests. "Gentlemen," he said, wrapping his cloak about himself. "Thank you for the use of your excellent stadium. My father will be well pleased to know that though the god's sanctuary is bare of ornament, its upkeep has not been neglected. I am sure he will make a victory dedication shortly. Now, I should like to visit the Castalia spring and the lower sanctuary before we ride back down to the harbour."


	5. Chapter 5

**Delphi V ****by Kizzykat**

**The Pine Cone**

The priests ushered Alexander out of the stadium and began to lead the way through the pine trees down the mountainside. Alexander questioned them briefly on the numbers of visitors, more to set them at ease than out of interest. Then he noticed that Hephaestion was lagging behind and, excusing himself to the priests, dropped back to wait for him, the ever watchful bodyguards slowing up as well, but keeping a discreet distance ahead, placing themselves between Alexander and the priests.

"What's wrong?" Alexander said to Hephaestion with a smile. "Have you pulled a muscle?"

Hephaestion looked up from his day-dreaming. "No," he said with a touch of injured dignity. "Here," he said, and held out a large closed pine cone to Alexander.

Alexander looked at it with a bemused smile. "What am I to do with this?"

With a touch of embarrassment, Hephaestion said, "It's a keepsake."

"Oh. Thank you," Alexander said, turning the damp pine cone about to inspect it.

"It looks dead now," Hephaestion said, "but bring it into the warmth and it will open to the light."

"I know they do that," Alexander said, smiling. "Then they shed their seeds."

"They keep for years," Hephaestion added. "My mother has three she keeps on her dressing table in a wooden bowl. She brought them from her father's house when she married. Sometimes she takes them out and remembers."

Alexander looked up at Hephaestion and smiled, knowing there was a reason for this, and waited for it to emerge.

Hephaestion's clear blue eyes met Alexander's warm brown ones and held them. "They are sort of immortal, Alexander," he said. "And I thought, if you took a piece of Delphi's immortality away with you, the god would remember his prophecy."

Alexander regarded Hephaistion for a long moment as a smile spread across his face. He held up the pine cone. "This will be my pledge, Hephaestion," he said, his smile glinting with quick humour, "that we will outdo all the heroes of old and that our names will be remembered for a thousand lifetimes."

Hephaestion looked at Alexander, offended at being laughed at. "Give it back," he said, holding out his hand, "if you think it's childish."

Alexander laughed playfully. "No," he said, smiling as he held the pine cone protectively against his chest. "I shall have it dipped in gold."

"Pig," Hephaestion said, thumping Alexander's arm. "Stop laughing at me."

Alexander shied away, laughing and rubbing his arm. "I swear I'm not laughing at you," he said. "I'm laughing because you make me feel good. You make me feel happy, Hephaestion. You make me believe in Plato's ideals of Truth and Beauty."

Hephaestion went red to the ears in mortified embarrassment. He ducked his head and started to walk past Alexander down the mountainside.

Alexander, after a moment's doubt, flung himself at Hephaestion's back, wrapping his arms about Hephaestion's shoulders.

"Do I make you happy?" he asked, his voice bubbling with certainty and mirth against Hephaestion's neck.

Hephaestion was forced to stand still with Alexander's weight on his back or risk tumbling down the mountainside. "No," he said, not in the least mollified by Alexander's humour.

Alexander stiffened. "No?" he said in mock ferocity, letting Hephaestion go and turning him around with a strong, urgent grip.

They looked at each other, their eyes on a level, barely two hand's length apart. Unblinking, Hephaestion met Alexander's eyes, his own eyes round with solemnity.

"No, Alexander," he said quietly. "We are different people. We love differently. To you, I am your soul-mate – I hope - the sharer of your own thoughts and dreams, the echo of your hopes. To me, you are my whole world. Everything I am comes from you." Alexander drew a breath to speak, but Hephaestion forestalled him. "If, like Patroclus, I were to die before you, Alexander, I know it would hurt you terribly. Something would die inside you, but it would heal, leaving you scarred, but able to soldier on. If you were to die before me, I would simply cease to exist. I would have no reason to live. I would be nothing without you. And I don't know which is more terrible."

For a long moment, Alexander stared at Hephaestion, a bright sheen in his eyes. Suddenly he clutched Hephaestion to him ferociously.

"Don't talk like that," he whispered fiercely against Hephaestion's ear. "Who cares if we die young, so long as we live every day with honour and glory? We will have eternity to be together, so long as we live to be worthy of hearing our praises sung, worthy of having our lives emulated."

Hephaestion drew back from Alexander and looked at him, a small smile on his lips.

"I don't want to live to be an old man, Alexander, living on memories of my glory days," he said. "I want you to have eternal glory, and I want to share that with you, even if it means we die young. I just don't want you to be hurt when I die before you. I don't want my death to condemn you to an early death too."

"Stop this, Hephaestion," Alexander said, his voice pained and hard. "Our future is not written in stone. In all likelihood we will both die a soldier's death, a hard death, a death worth dying for glory, but we may well have a good twenty years before then. That is a lifetime. We could have grown sons by then. Or we could die tomorrow. All that matters is that we make it count: that we make every day worth remembering."

Hephaestion smiled at Alexander, a soft and gentle smile. "I'm not afraid of dying, Alexander," he said. "Because I know you'll be there."

"Always," Alexander said, a lump in his throat. Suddenly he cleared his voice. "See," he said, pretending to glare at Hephaestion, "now you've made me get all sentimental with your silly pine cone."

Hephaestion chuckled. "Give it back then," he said.

"No," Alexander said, catching Hephaestion's hand in his as they began to walk downslope again. "I shall keep it forever, and we'll see if it lives longer than I do."

"It will," Hephaestion said, smiling broadly.

"Fatalist."

"Better than being a dreamer of impossible dreams," Hephaestion said airily.

"Pig. Don't insult my ambitions."

"As if I'd dare," Hephaestion said in mock horror.

"Oh, so I'm a tyrant as well?" Alexander exclaimed. "Do you hear that, Leonnatus?" Alexander said as they caught up with the bodyguards. "Hephaestion calls me a tyrant."

Leonnatus and the other bodyguards grinned. "Definitely a hanging matter," he said.

"Come," Alexander said cheerfully. "I want to drink from the Castalia spring. Perhaps it will grant me wisdom." He looked at Hephaestion and smiled, knowing his heart was in safe keeping for eternity.


End file.
